Secret College Society
by InLoveWithJesse
Summary: Suze is finally a senior! While checking a college, she finds herself looking for a murderer again, while being bothered by a gang of college seniors and a questionable ghost. Sequel to I Love You, Dear Commoner.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and welcome, everybody, to the sequel for – "I Love You, Dear Commoner"! I'm very happy to be doing this, my first sequel. Greetings to all my readers, and new ones. Please review this; it's very important to me.**

"Why do I need to know all this stuff, anyway?" I hollered, frustrated, banging my head against Jesse's coffee table. "It's important, _Querida_," Jesse replied, laying his hand on my shoulder, comfortingly. "Important?" I echoed. "Why is algebra important? And finals aren't important, either. I know all the _important_ stuff, like how to deal with an uncooperative ghost, and not letting my 'abilities' go out in public. Right now, that's all I need to know, thanks." Jesse groaned, frustrated, and picked up the algebra course book. I was only in chapter four of the special book they give me to prepare for the finals, and I had no longer than a week to know it. If I got less than a B, I'd disappoint my mother so – she always dreamed of having an over-achiever daughter.

Instead, she got a mathematically useless mediator.

"Alright," Jesse started, staring at the equations. "Let's say you were asked to contact X ghosts—"

"Jesse, I appreciate your help, but this is NOT going to work," I said, slamming the book shut. "Maybe we should just watch a movie or something?"

"Susannah…"

"Please," I said, fluttering my eyelids at him. "Fine," he surrendered. "But you owe me!"  
We spent the rest of the night watching _Corpse Bride_. It was really an adorable movie, and kind of alike what we had, in a way… Only, Victor ended up with Victoria in the end, not with the corpse bride. And, of course, it was a _corpse_ the guy was falling for, not a _ghost_. There's quite a difference.

When the movie was over, I planted my lips on his. He wrapped his arms around my back in response, and deepened the kiss. See, those are the moments I live for. Not fighting nineteenth century bitches, suicidal maniacs, a pack of vindictive teenagers, a serial killer or a devilish guy that dragged me to the 1700's – who is, by the way, off my back now. All of this stuff, and my friends even, won't count for anything if I didn't have Jesse in the end of the day, my arms wrapped round his neck.

I leaned up against him as he lowered his hands to my waist, beginning an assault on my neck. I moaned and turned my head to kiss his lips, such tender, inviting lips – they were another reason I lived through all of that stuff.

I was so happy. Too bad that happiness was about to be taken away from me.

--

"These finals are physically _painful_," Adam complained, as we sat at the lunch table. "Why?" CeeCee replied, taking a bite of her croissant, glaring at Adam. "It's a piece of cake. I can tutor you, if you want." Adam was just about to agree when I jumped in and said, "No. I've already tried the whole boyfriend-tutoring-you thing. It doesn't do any good. You'll just end up making out."

"Fine with me," Adam said, smiling at CeeCee. They were now together for over a year, like me and Jesse, and CeeCee had confided in me that they were talking about Doing It. I was really happy for CeeCee. She finally had the guy she wanted. Just like me and Jesse.

CeeCee blushed. "Well, as long as we do at least thirty minutes of tutoring before… making out." It was still hard for her to digest, she told me later. She said it was unbelievable for her that she was regularly making out with a guy. "Agreed," Adam said, and, instead of settling it with a hand-shake, as custom, he did with a hot kiss. CeeCee seemed to take great enjoyment in it.

The bell rang not awhile afterward. Geometry class was disturbed by Mr. Walden, which gave our geometry teacher, Reverend Knightly – I thought it was very peculiar, a reverend teaching geometry, but it _is_ a Catholic school – a stack of pages.

He then gave us the sheets, while Mr. Walden explained they were lists and histories of some colleges, which you could apply a scholarship for. He said that now that we're seniors, we need to find a college to go to next year, if we plan to go to one. It had a bunch of them, with addresses so we could go take a look at a college we were interested in.

Well. This is really happening.

**Sorry about the shortness. I think it will get longer soon… Enjoy this sequel, please review, love, Dana. **


	2. Campus Tour

**Hey everyone! Sorry that this took long, I just had some trouble with my computer. Enjoy this chapter and please review!**

**_Chapter 1: Campus Tour_**

Almost every one of the colleges I visited were either filthy, filled with drug addicts, ill-populated or had way too high standards. I even spotted a ghost in the ladies room of one, which immediately ruled it out, of course.

One day, I dragged Jesse along to a college that seemed perfect. It was not far from the mission, actually, and had nice and serene surroundings. Sure, some freshmen were jumping around on their skateboards or throwing stuff at their friends, but what student doesn't do that, right?

"I don't know if I feel good about you going here," Jesse said, staring intently at some students circling a well-defined blonde girl. They were laughing and she was appearing creeped out, and then one of them put his arm around her. She tried to pull away, but his buddy kept her close. I tried to ignore it, but I really felt bad about the poor girl.

"It'll be okay," I said, patting his back, calming him down. "That girl obviously never fought any ghosts in her life, see. She's just standing there. I would have kicked that guy's groin ages ago."

"But, _Querida_—"

"End of story. There's nothing to worry about."

We walked in the lobby. It was as nice-looking as it was inside as it was outside. Outside, it was filled with exotic trees and hibiscus plants, and it even had a fountain at the front. Inside, the walls were painted gentle pastels, and little plants were set all around the lobby, and some pictures of their 'Over-achieving, clever, proud graduates'. One of them was a pop star. How over-achieving.

"Are you here to see the university?" the lady at the reception desk, a pretty African-American woman in an Armani white blouse, tucked into tight blue-jeans and a stylish belt, asked, flashing some pearly whites, that matched her pearl necklace exactly.

"Yes. Actually, I am. Is there someone who's supposed to do a tour, or something?" The reception lady smiled again and showed us to a side room, also painted prettily and had some diplomas at the wall. In the desk, sat a guy, his hair exactly the same color as me, cut very properly and his tie tied perfectly, hung at his white, plain collar. "This is Pete. He can show you around," the lady said, then returned to her desk at the front. The guy grinned and stood up, pushing his hand toward us. He'd just been eating Mexican food, and had sauce all over his hands. This made shaking his hand pretty gross. Jesse didn't seem to mind, though. It was how dear old Pete was staring at me that made all the difference for him. He couldn't help but wrap his arm around my waist as we stood in front of Pete, as if telling him 'Um, dude, this is my girl, so you better watch it'. Obviously, Jesse never talks like that, but I never saw a gentleman ever say anything close.

"Welcome to Sunrise University," he said, smiling widely, not showing nice, white teeth like the lady at the reception, that I saw by her name tag was called Alyson, but big, dirty teeth, all filthy because of the sauce. He even had a little piece of pepper stuck between his front teeth, but I didn't breathe a word about it.

"Hi, I'm considering applying," I said, seeming as polite as I could. Jesse was already in college, and when he applied, and got to know the people at his college, he said it's best to be as lovely and sweet as possible, and show the most knowledge you can come up with, even if it's just about something like a state poll about drugs or a new invention threatening to take over our lives, but seems too pricy. I didn't know anything about any of that stuff, but I could always _pretend_ I did, right?

"Welcome," he said again, and started toward the door to his office. When I walked out, I took a peek at what it said on the door. 'A. Residence Hall Director, Pete Wilbur'. I wondered, why wasn't the Residence Hall Director sent to do help us? Why only his assistant? Why does a Residence Hall Director even _need_ an assistant, anyway?

"That there, that's the entrance to the campus dorm," Pete said, pointing at a big gate, outside the large lobby. "That's some of the classes, and there's also a professor residence. That's the cafeteria, right up that hallway…"

I wasn't really listening to Pete. Sure, I was taking the info in. You know, cafeteria here, residence there. But I didn't really _care_. I was looking out the window.

Those students, the ones who were bothering the blonde girl, were getting yelled at by some guy and a younger guy standing by him. The blonde girl was crying, and she was sitting on the bench by where they were standing. The students were talking back, waving their arms around, not seeming to care whatever that can happen to them. I mean, if that guy yelling at them had authority, they could get kicked out the dorm, or maybe even the school itself. They weren't being very bright, ya' know.

Pete followed my gaze and laughed. "Oh, those are the frat boys. They've been up to some trouble it seems, probably with that girl. That's the Dean, by them. And that guy, next to the Dean, it's the Residence Hall Director. They have to get to those crazy kids almost every day. It's a surprise they still even live here."

I looked at the girl. She was crying pretty hard, and at some point, started pointing her finger at this guy with a baseball cap, the same guy that embraced her earlier, and shouting stuff at him. I had no idea what she said, but it sure wasn't praises. She seemed really disturbed.

Pete showed us some more of the campus, and then guided us to the exit. As we left, Jesse said, "I don't know if I want you to study here. I mean, those students… Maybe you should apply to my school—"

"Jesse. Don't worry. I'm gonna be fine."

--

"Sunrise? Oh, yeah. I checked it out. But I didn't like how their Residence Hall Director guy was leering at my chest. It was frightening. I liked that other place… Um, I think it's called… Benjamin Franklin. You know, that one just outside Carmel." CeeCee was whispering to me from her desk, in Mr. Walden's classroom. He was talking to Father Dominic outside and Mr. Walden gave us something to copy from the chalkboard, but we were both done already. Which gave us full chatting privilege.

"That's where Jesse goes. I don't know if I can get in there, but they'll take you in like that."

CeeCee seemed like she remembered something, something weird, and asked, "Hey, when you were in Sunrise, did you see these guys, a bunch of them, getting in trouble with the Dean? They were really creepy. And they were half the reason I didn't apply. I didn't want them getting anywhere near me."

I immediately remembered those guys, with the blonde girl. "Yeah. There were some fraternity guys there… They were messing around with this blonde girl outside the dorm. She really didn't like that."

"Yeah. I think that are the same guys I saw. Only, they were getting in trouble for doing drugs, not molesting a girl."

"Can't say I'm surprised, either way" was my reply. Mr. Walden then returned in the class, and announced it was just two weeks away from prom. Most of the girls squealed with joy and some of the guys were making cutting gestures at their throats. I just sat there silently while CeeCee was talking to Adam, thinking if Jesse would agree to go to the prom with me. I loved seeing him in his tux.

**Thanks, everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm sorry these chapters are so short, but it's just the beginning – they'll get longer, and, hopefully, more interesting. Please review, love, Dana.**


	3. Afternoon Walk

**Hi, everyone. Sorry this took me long, I just went abroad, and didn't find much time to write. Anyway, enjoy this chapter :).**

That day after school, I had to walk home. Jesse couldn't pick me up, Sleepy was in a class, Dopey was taking this girl to the park, and even Adam couldn't find the time to pass my house, saying he had some family stuff to do, and it was really important and stuff. So, because CeeCee had her car at the shop and walked home herself, the opposite direction from my house, I found myself walking home, in blazing heat, carrying my book bag, promising myself I'd get mad at Jesse. But, of course, that could never work. The moment he kisses me, I'll melt like a Popsicle on a hot summer day.

And it was in fact, a very hot summer day. I had missed the weather forecast and wore a really nice, black Armani blouse, which turned out to be a huge mistake. I was sweating like a pig. The sun was so strong, and there were absolutely no clouds in the sky. It was so hot, even a camel would complain. I mean, if a camel could _talk_.

I walked out of the mission, waving CeeCee goodbye. She was just as upset as I was about having to walk on a day like that.

I decided to take a shortcut. I never actually took it, but I figured it would be the right decision, because, you know, I was _this_ close to start melting, right there on the sidewalk.

The shortcut was through this little park, I couldn't quite recognize which one it was, but I felt like I've been there before. I walked through the place, gazing longingly at a child sucking on a chocolate sundae. I wished I could just grab it from him, but his dad was nearby, and that guy didn't look like someone you should meddle with. He didn't seem too restrained from hitting a girl, even if she was just, you know, eighteen years old.

I kept walking past the kid, trying to see if his dad was going anywhere. _Maybe I could bribe him into giving it to me,_ I thought, but then I remembered I only had like 25 cents in my pocket. I grunted in frustration as I passed him, telling myself I'm not that far from home – Andy, I knew, would love to make me a deluxe fruit sundae.

I exited the park, and went into this pretty empty street – which, again, I felt like I've seen before – and grunted again. Now hot wind was coming at me full speed, and I was feeling like tearing off my Armani blouse, just to cool off. But, I saw, that was impossible. There were a pack of what seemed like some teenage delinquents not that far from me.

I recognized them immediately. They were those guys from Sunrise College, with the reverse-baseball-cap leader. They seemed pretty stressed, and I could only guess why when I got a little closer, doing my best not to let myself be seen.

"Maybe… Maybe we could just get her drunk, or something? Tell her we're trying to help her out because she… I don't know, collapsed?" The guy with the reverse baseball cap turned to the guy suggesting getting 'her' drunk, looking annoyed. "Shut up, Holster," he demanded, spitting at him in the process. Holster lowered his gaze to the asphalt beneath him, appearing ashamed. "Sorry, DD," he said, while all the other guys looked at him the same way. I didn't care about Holster, though. I was just wondering who Holster suggested getting drunk, and _why_.

"We just need to get her back to campus. It's not that far away. We'll put her in the car and drive her back," another guy, a big guy with an afro, suggested, pleading 'DD' not to insult him in reply. His pleading was, clearly, absolutely useless. "Yeah, right, Ger. There are six of us! That's already enough for a Nissan Mycra. We barely even got here. How do you expect us to fit Janet, as petite and un-conscious that she is, into the back seat?"

Everyone turned very accusing looks at 'Ger', as he looked confused and lost. The poor guys in DD's group were being treated poorly, and you didn't have to know them personally to know that. Every one of them who even dared to stutter a word at their leader was insulted and shot down, getting painful looks from all the others – even though each and every one of them knows exactly how if feels to be accused. I couldn't feel worse about men than I ever did in that moment, where they all showed their leader just how they're 'real men', hurting who was probably a good friend of theirs in the process.

"We _could_ fit her in the trunk," one of them blurted out, looking a lot more confident than any of the others was. He definitely wasn't scared about getting shot down by DD, and I could see why when he replied. "Sure, Joe. That's a great idea." All of the others, especially 'Ger' and Holster, stared at DD, amazed. DD had turned into a total pushover, right under Joe's leash. They didn't quite like that, I could see.

They all walked along in silence, as Joe and DD carried a girl – a pretty brunette dressed nice and conservative – out from behind a little closed pizzeria, and into the trunk of their little, beat up car. They squeezed inside the car, and started driving away. I kept walking along the street, shocked, and just hoped to get outta there.

Somehow, I just knew what I just saw will get me into some serious trouble.

--

As soon as I walked in, not even caring that Andy was offering me a sundae – which I would have definitely accepted, under different circumstances – I went straight to my room, and to my computer. I just _had_ to check who those guys were.

I typed in the address to the Sunrise College website, and then the full list of attending students. Sure, I had no idea what their real names were, but I knew I could pull it off. And it wasn't even as hard as I thought it would be.

I had an option to browse through the full list of attending students, and, as I scrolled down the page, I bumped into the pictures of the guys I saw.

DD, as it turned out, went under the official name of Daniel Darcy. I was actually surprised to find his slightly dorky full name. Joe was actually Joseph Weinstein, native to, believe it or not, Brooklyn, New-York. Holster went under the name Leopold Holster, native to sunny California. Ger was apparently named by his loving parents, Gerard Sullivan. There were also others: David Brook, Jackson Anderson and finally, Michael McAdams. They were all seniors at Sunrise, who apparently passed every one of their classes with flying colors. Funny, I thought. They didn't really seem like the kind of guys that would stay home studying on a Saturday night, instead of, I don't know, getting high and molesting a freshman?

I know that they molested at least two freshmen, because I also found two photos of the girls they were after – one of them being the blonde I saw at campus – Angela Baker – and Janet, the pretty brunette they slipped in the trunk – who goes by the full name of Mari-Janet Philippi. They were both freshmen, and another thing I found common in the both of them – they were both originated in Brooklyn.

The rest of the day was a bore. I ate a chocolate-fudge sundae, I did my homework and I talked to Jesse on the phone. We agreed he's coming to dinner on Friday, and said goodbye sweetly.

Even though I knew I was protected by Jesse at all times, I also knew that what these guys were going to launch at me? Yeah. That's a little riskier than even Jesse could handle.

**Sorry about that rather cryptic ending. Now I hope I could post this – even though, if you're already reading this, I probably got the hang of this whole wireless connection thing. Thanks for reading and please review! Love, Dana. **


	4. Cry For Help

**_Chapter 3 – Cry For Help_**

"Help me."

I turned off the faucet and turned to face her. She was standing by the shower curtain, her gaze fixated on the bathroom floor tiles. Her hair shined in the light from the window, and her eyes seemed blank.

"Janet," I said, folding my arms across my chest. "Hi." Janet turned her gaze to me. She seemed miserable. I could only guess who killed her, but I knew already – it was too easy to figure out. "Did the frat boys do this to you? DD and Joe and Holster and all those guys? Did they kill you?" Usually, I'm not so easy on ghosts. But Mari-Janet Philippi looked so sad; I talked to her softly, actually wanting to help her with every fiber of my soul.

"No," she replied, well, actually – screamed, looking even more miserable. "It was her! Her! You've met her! She killed me! Please! Please stop her! She wants to do it again! Please, please help me! Don't let her kill someone else! Just… please."

"Her?" I took a step closer to Janet, who was now weeping, her face in her hands. I could tell that she was a wreck, and then she fell to her knees. She looked up at me from where she kneeled on the tiles and muttered weakly, "Please stop her… Please…"

"Janet? Who? Who should I stop?" But Janet was already dematerializing, looking almost transparent, and crying weakly on the bathroom floor. Her sobs appeared weaker and weaker as she disappeared, leaving me in my bathroom, uncomprehending. Someone, apparently a woman, whom I have already met, has killed Mari-Janet Philippi. It wasn't, like she said, the frat boys, like I thought, but a woman. A woman, who, it turns out, _will_ kill again.

And I have to stop her.

Because I'm the mediator.

Lucky me.

--

"Pass the cheese, please," my mother asked Dopey, as he chewed his flan with his mouth open – a real glorious sight – and text messaged someone – supposedly a current flame – with his brand new cell phone. Apparently, because Dopey had his eighteenth birthday just when there was a sale for new cell phones at the mall, he got a cell phone, while I got a cheque for 900 dollars, that I could spend the mall. I've pointed how unfair that is, but they just said time will come when I'll get my own cell phone – though it's clear not in the nearby future.

"How was everyone's day?" my mom started, trying to break the startling silence that was slowly filling the dining room. I wasn't talking at all, because just ten minutes ago, I had a visit from the ghost of a murdered, sweet freshman at the college I was planning to enroll, that mentioned I had to stop her killer from striking again, and it _wasn't_ the group that happened to carry her dead-like body to the trunk of their beat-up car, but a woman – whoever she was – that killed her. So you could tell why I wasn't too talkative.

Everyone else were just sitting there eating – except for Dopey, who paid absolutely no attention to his flan at about the fifth message he got, grinned, and became absorbed with his phone. I could only imagine – how disgusting it might have been – what was written on that screen.

Doc was eating and reading simultaneously, but he wasn't reading a naughty SMS – as opposed to Dopey – but one of my SAT preps, that he asked me to give to him, if I don't mind, once I was done with them. Sleepy was eating, slower than ever, disconnected from the universe. And Jesse, who was having dinner with us, like most nights of the week, was just eating, looking all cute. Andy was still at the kitchen, probably getting salad for the girls.

My mom, realizing no one was about to answer, went, "So, Jesse, what college are you going to now?"

"Benjamin Franklin, Ma'am. You know it, don't you?" My mom smiled. "Sure. But weren't you supposed to go to Yale? I thought you got accepted." Jesse smiled at my mom as he played with the flan on his plate. "Yes, Ma'am, but I… Well, I suppose I didn't want to leave here."

Dopey burped what seemed to have sounded like 'Dope', which, you know, caused me to mouth – "Look who's talking, Brad," but I suppose he didn't see it since he went, instead of going on one of his rants on me, "So, you, like, stayed here at some community college when you could have gotten a scholarship and went to Yale for _her_?"

I threw Dopey a dirty look. "I suppose so, Brad," was Jesse's response, but he gave my hand a squeeze under the table to emphasize that I _was_ in fact the reason that he gave up Yale, and he was the reason I didn't put in an application for Princeton or UCLA or whatever, and decided to go to somewhere around here in Carmel. That's love for you.

"Or, you know, you didn't get the scholarship and you're just cheap." I kicked Sleepy's shin hard under the table. "What?" He poured water down his glass and took a gulp. "It's not like it's impossible. The guy's practically broke. It'll be no surprise if he was just fibbing us on his SAT score and he didn't get a scholarship. I mean, no guy with a brain where it's supposed to be will give up college for a chick— ow! Suze! What'd you do that for? It _is_ possible!"

After the second time Sleepy went 'Ow!' after I'd kicked his shin, Andy came out of the kitchen holding two margaritas. He put one next to his water glass and gave the other one to my mom. Then he asked Jesse, "Jesse, you're twenty-one already, right? You want a margarita?"

"No, thank you, sir. I don't drink except on special occasions."

Dopey lit up. "Like keggers at the Valley?"

"More like weddings, actually. Other than that, I just find alcohol to be a drug, and I don't find it wise to use it."

My mom looked up at Jesse – he's taller than her, even sitting down, with her wearing high heels – admiringly. She was just about to drink from her margarita, but then put it down. Wow. The affect Jesse has on my mom, it's frightening. I mean, hello, I'm the one who's been dating him for a year, not her.

"Susannah, why have you been so quiet during dinner? You seem ever so distant." Jesse sat on my window seat, and looked at me with worried eyes. I have, I knew, been quite distant ever since the Mari-Janet Philippi incident and it hadn't yet occurred to me, until Jesse sat there and asked about me, that I hadn't been able to tell him about her.

"I had a visitor. Just now, before dinner. It was… She has something to do with the guys from Sunrise." I had told Jesse about what I saw in the park that day, the night afterwards, when I'd spent the night at his place. I'm not sure, but I think my whole family thinks I've done the nasty by now – I've been spending a lot of nights at Jesse's recently, not by tradition, just for fun, but nothing happened. Jesse is _way_ too old-fashioned to want to Do It before marriage, so even though I tried to convince him, he insists that when we share his bed, nothing happens except the occasional smooching and cuddling. And this is a _guy_ we're talking about. A _twenty-one-year-old, virgin, totally swamped with hormones guy_. And he hasn't laid a finger on my no-no area.

That's what I get for falling in love with a nineteenth-century gentleman.

"It was Mari-Janet Philippi," I said to him, sitting by him on the window seat. "The girl they carried to their trunk. She's dead. And she says they _didn't_ kill her. She said a _woman_ killed her, and that woman's planning to strike again. She asked me to stop her."

Jesse looked into my eyes, as if just to admire their beauty (yeah, right), stood up, and looked down at me, appearing worried.

"Susannah… Querida, I… I believe that you should stay out of this. Never go to Sunrise again, apply to other colleges, preferably Yale, to get as far away from here as you can—" I could tell he also wanted to say, 'So I can come with you', "—But the most important thing is for you to stay away from this one. It is clear getting into this whole thing will get your life in the path of peril again, by this woman, or maybe by the punks from Sunrise. I beg of you not to try and fix this. You are not Mari-Janet Philippi's maid, and you should not try and clean up her mess, if it could you killed. I know people… Not from this world. They have no life to risk. They could take care of this. The only thing I ask you to do is never to go back to that college again, and not get a mile near those guys."

I stared up at Jesse. He was offering the most insane things I've ever heard. Stay out of this? Not try and clean it up? Go away to Yale? Does he even _know_ me?

Oh, wait, of course he knows me. He just happens to be Jesse. He worries. That's his job.

"Don't worry about it; I just wanted to tell you. What I'd rather have these guys that have no life to risk to do is get me some info on Mari-Janet Philippi and who she could be talking about. I will stop that woman. I know, I know, I can't do it on my own, but I have you and Paul, remember? I'm not alone. We can do this. I mean we've been through hell and back together, Jesse. I mean, we fought our way back here from _eighteenth century_. We're unstoppable."

Jesse smiled. Then he nodded and said, "You might think so, Susannah. But no-one is unstoppable. We will try, but promise me that the second it puts you in danger, you will back away, and not listen to Mari-Janet Philippi anymore. Could you promise that to me?" He was looking worried again. He looks so cute when he's worried. Makes want to just rip his clothes off and—

"Promise. You have nothing to worry about, I swear."


	5. Dead Friendships

**_Chapter 4 – Dead Friendships_**

I walked around the house's foyer, trying to find what Nicole what was talking about. I hate being at strangers' houses, especially at 3:00 at night, in such darkness, I couldn't even see my hands in front of me, but Nicole asked me to. Her mom would freak if she found that her deceased daughter had an affair out of marriage. So it was _my_ job to get all the incriminating stuff out of the way.

Nicole, a pretty, blond ghost that came up to me the same day Mari-Janet Philippi visited my bathroom, was 27-years-old and married for eight years. She fell out of love for her husband, Patrick, about five years into their marriage. Now, she had died in her sleep – the doctors say her lungs stopped functioning in the middle of the night, while she was sleeping, apparently because she was smoking for over 10 years – and she came to seek my help, because if her mother ever found she was sleeping with someone else, she'll refuse to even come to her funeral. She told me to go to her and her husband's house to find all the things she hid around her house that would prove she was unfaithful, to confirm the already-suspicious-husband's worries. So, that's pretty much why I ended up here instead of in the warmth of my bed, at 3:00 AM. Story of my life.

"In the closet. Top shelf." I turned around and saw Nicole standing behind me. Nicole was a very pretty woman, with honey-blond hair and a well-toned figure. She was wearing a red slip dress with a pattern of gorgeous roses, and black, expensive shoes. She was wearing her form when she was about 20, she told me, at her sister's birthday. She was a genuine beauty.

I smiled and entered the small closet in the second floor, right outside the bedroom. It was small and dark – at least until when she showed me the light. I was scared the husband will sense the light, but she said he sleeps like a baby – he's on sleeping pills. Even if we walk in and set his nose on fire, all he'll do is snore. _God_, I thought. _No wonder she could sneak out to meet other guys in the middle of the night when she was alive_.

There was a shoe box up there, which Nicole had decorated with paper lilies and roses cut out of magazines. I looked at her meaningfully, and she nodded, allowing me to open the box. I looked inside.

For the most, there were pictures inside. They were taken by one of those Polaroid cameras. She wrote a name on each picture, and a few words on the guy in it. "May I?" I asked her. She nodded again. "It doesn't matter, anyway, now that I'm dead," She said. I could detect a bit of sadness in her eyes.

The first one I looked at was of a Latino guy, brown-skinned, his hair curled up against his forehead. _Julio_, it read. _Sweet, romantic, and great in bed._ Then she drew a little smiley face. _I wish HE was my husband_.

Then there was a bearded guy, looking a lot older than Nicole, smiling sheepishly. _Gabi_, it read. _Israeli, on vacation. The week we spent together was unforgettable. Has his own wife and three kids back in Jerusalem._

There were like five or six more. Each one unique, each one handsome. I couldn't imagine ever wanting to be with so many guys, or hiding it from Jesse. I knew I'd never fall out of love for Jesse. I imagined how Nicole's husband must have been if she'd really fallen out of love for him and went to so many other guys.

Under the pictures, were this journal decorated the same way like the box, and a few tapes. She told me it contained some PG-18 things I shouldn't watch. Though I _was_ 18 already, and I _knew_ what those tapes must have contained. But she still told me not to watch them. I promised I wouldn't, and this time, I was honest.

--

Nicole let me take the box home, with a promise, of course, that I wouldn't watch the tapes. I put it in my bathroom. I felt that no one comes in there, anyway, except me, so no one will find it there. God, if someone would think _I_ slept with all of those guys… I'd be toast, that I can tell you.

Jesse started taking cooking classes. No, I'm not kidding. He says he'd gotten used to not eat at all for 150 years, and before he died his mother had cooked for his family. Now, that he's living alone, he's tired of ordering in and just eating Pizza and Chinese, so he's decided to make his own food. I can't say I was too exited when he proposed I'd come over and he'd make something he learned at class for me; no one said Jesse is good at cooking as he is at kissing.

But, boy, was I in for a surprise. He made Pasta Bolognese – not a hard task, I might add, as I made it all the time back in Brooklyn, when Mom was working and I had to make my own food – but it was unexpectedly delicious. He'd made it just right – just like he does everything else. I wonder if I'd ever get to see the day he's bad at something. But so far, he hasn't taken ballet classes. God, imagine Jesse with those tights…

"Wow," I exclaimed, chewing the pasta. "Jesse, this is wonderful," he smiled shyly and elegantly ate his pasta. I was so used to see the Ackerman boys eat with their mouths open and throw their food all over the place, it was quite a sight for me to see someone eat so… neatly. Jesse was, after all, from the 1800's, so you couldn't expect him to be vulgar at the table. At least, as long as Brad doesn't get his claws at him.

Fortunately, there were meat balls with the pasta, so I did the whole thing from _Lady and the Tramp_ and passed my last meat ball over to his plate. Jesse looked at me oddly as I performed the gesture. I forgot he didn't watch Disney movies. He was dead when they made them.

He then made us coffee, which we drank at his coffee table. Jesse didn't want to get a TV – he said he could never find it useful – but we broke him down when Father Dominic and me suggested it as a present. He couldn't turn it down once we already bought it – that would be extremely impolite.

So we watched a movie, as was our habit, this time choosing _Suzy Gold_. It was my choice, but Jesse didn't appear to like it all that much. But his taste in movies floors me, and not even in a good way. I mean, he didn't even like _Shrek_. Who in the hell doesn't like _Shrek_? It's positively brilliant.

We ended our night with kissing on his couch. I would have gladly escorted him to the bedroom in the end of the night, if only he would give up the idiotic idea that intercourse is a sin or something before marriage. I just don't get it. He's a guy, isn't he? Why doesn't he want _this_? Because, seriously, _this_ is not something any guy would pass on. And my boyfriend, my _one true love_, out of all people, doesn't want me in his bedroom? What kind of a twisted universe is this, I ask you?

He drove me home. Just as I was about to go out, I stayed in the seat and turned my look to Jesse. "Yes, _querida_?" he went, when he saw me glaring at him. I answered, "Jesse, do you realize that we've been together for… more than a year?" Jesse smiled and took my hand. "Yes, _querida_, I know. It's terrific." I smiled at him too. "And do you realize that… Well, we've never gone farther than… Second Base?" Jesse looked puzzled. I explained it to him. He seemed a tad shocked, actually, by the terms. Actually, I never personally liked them all that much, either, but they were common knowledge.

"Yes, _querida_, I understand, but you know my stands on this," he said, once he was over the initial shock.

So we talked it over. He explained what he thought about the whole thing. I promised him I won't be dishonored or hurt by the whole thing. He said my family won't like it, and I told him they all thought we did it already anyway, and we kept arguing on the situation. He even got mad at the end, throwing grave, hard 'Susannah's at me. That's when I knew I should just peck him on the cheek and go up to my house. _I guess I can't change his mind,_ I thought.

When I got up to my room, I found Nicole sitting on my window seat, just like Jesse used to.

"Relationship trouble?" she asked, when she saw my face. "How'd you guess?" I replied, collapsing on my bed.

"Get this," I said, turning my gaze to her. "My boyfriend, aged 21 going on 22, who's been going out with me for more than a year, refuses to have sex with me, claming it will dishonor me." Nicole stared at me for a few seconds. "You're serious?" she said, getting up, and coming to sit next to me on my bed. "That's awfully weird, Susannah Simon. Have you considered therapy?" I laughed. I sure needed a few jokes. My confidence, which Jesse usually boosted, was going down the toilet.

"Of course, he was born at around 1830, died at 20, and was revived by myself about a year ago. So he's quite a gentleman." Nicole glared at me some more. "Again, may I suggest intensive therapy?"

We laughed together. I sure missed this. Nicole was just who I needed then. She was becoming a real friend to me.

"I think this is a start of a wonderful friendship, Miss Anderson," I said to her, remembering her last name at the last minute. "I do think so, Miss Simon," she said back, and we kept laughing. It was wonderful to have Nicole to talk to. But I couldn't help wondering…

Why didn't she move on when I took the box back to my house? No one she knew could find it there. Why was she still hanging around?

I decided to ignore this for the time being. No one knew better than me that something was brewing, and not just things with Jesse. The guys from Sunrise or Mari-Janet Philippi didn't assure me a nice, pleasant ending to the year. I knew something big was about to happen, I didn't even need any ghosts to come to me with cryptic warnings or anything.

My intuition did tell me to back off, listen to Jesse, and not get tangled in the whole thing. But an innocent, poor ghost has come to me, and not with some request to tell a kid to give his brother his ball back, or anything. A killer was on the loose. I had to do something.

I just _had_ to.


End file.
